


you and i will not be shaken

by knightswatch



Series: iwfyitd verse [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Awkward First Times, First Time, M/M, Mad Dog Gang, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, handjobs, iwfyitd-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because he and Akira are some kind of together, dating, whatever now doesn't mean <i>that much</i> in Yuutaro's life has changed. He supposes part of that is because they were already close to begin with—close enough that they were sharing a bed and ended up cuddling whatever nights they didn't have the single space heater that the four of them shared.</p>
<p>Close enough that when Yuutaro sometimes has dreams about kaiju and wakes up shouting and clawing at the air that Akira rolls over and helps him calm down, hands on either side of his face and staring at him with steady, dark eyes, frowning just slightly. “Kin—Yuu, you're fine. I'm right here, it's okay.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you and i will not be shaken

Just because he and Akira are some kind of together, dating, whatever now doesn't mean _that much_ in Yuutaro's life has changed. He supposes part of that is because they were already close to begin with—close enough that they were sharing a bed and ended up cuddling whatever nights they didn't have the single space heater that the four of them shared.

Close enough that when Yuutaro sometimes has dreams about kaiju and wakes up shouting and clawing at the air that Akira rolls over and helps him calm down, hands on either side of his face and staring at him with steady, dark eyes, frowning just slightly. “Kin—Yuu, you're fine. I'm right here, it's okay.”

His breath stops coming in such desperate gasps and his brain slows down along with the wild beating of his heart. Akira seems to realize it too because he hesitates before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against the skin of Yuutaro's forehead the way Yahaba sometimes does after he has a panic attack. It feels different, though—from Yahaba it's a nice little gesture that makes him feel comforted, but with Akira, it feels _intimate_ , and his face burns in the darkness. He clears his throat awkwardly, shifting and slowly wrapping his arms around Akira again. “S- sorry.”

“Not like you can help it,” he snorts, curling into Yuutaro's grip with a soft sound. They do have the heater tonight, burning quietly at the foot of the bed and keeping the room warm. Yuutaro glances down at it guiltily and hopes that Yahaba and Kyoutani in the next room aren't too cold. It's warm enough in the room, sharing the bed with Akira that Yuutaro's even sleeping with his shirt off. Akira always grumbles when they take it and says that Kyoutani is a space heater on his own anyway, but that just makes Yuutaro worry more about how _not normal_ Kyoutani is, especially with all of the Soldiers doing badly as well.

He closes his eyes against the flutter of anxiety in his stomach, trying to push the thought out of his head. Kyoutani is fine, he's different from the other Soldiers, nothing else is going to happen to the four of them. He concentrates on his own breathing, counting in his head for each breath. Slowly, the knot in his stomach uncoils and he shifts forward a little, his thigh dragging against Akira when he shifts his leg.

“U- um,” he mumbles, stopping short when his leg rubs against _something_ and Akira tenses like he's been shocked, breath coming in a hard puff like it's been pushed out of his lungs. 

And okay, they spent all of puberty sharing a pair of futons in a _very_ tight space, it's not like it's the first time Akira has ever had a boner around him. 

But this, laying face to face in their bed, close enough to kiss, with Akira shifting his hips forward like he wants to chase Yuutaro's leg and grind himself against it again—it's not exactly the same thing as curling up and faking sick to hide it. Yuutaro freezes, because he has no idea _what_ he's supposed to do in this situation. Maybe he should pretend he didn't notice? But it's possible Akira will think he's just not interested and then he'll feel bad. Maybe he should _ask_ what to do? But that seems awkward, and the thought of Akira telling him to leave, or getting up to take care of it in the bathroom or something makes his heart twitch in his chest.

“A- Akira?” He mumbles softly instead, curling his fingers in the back of Akira's shirt and glancing down at his lips, of course just in time to catch sight of Akira's tongue dragging over the lower one, leaving it damp. He's still not very good at telling when he's being teased, but that seems, well, _direct_.

He leans his head forward and kisses Akira softly, feeling heat and excitement flicker to life in the pit of his stomach. He tries to let go of worrying about what he's supposed to do or where they're going with this—Akira's better at taking the lead with things anyway, and instead he just focuses on kissing.

He probably doesn't really count as being _good_ at it yet, but he knows what Akira likes at least, and that's good enough. He tilts his head into the pillow slightly for a better angle and digs his teeth against Akira's lower lip, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that Akira makes a small noise.

If he keeps doing that, he's not going to be the only one hard under the blankets.

Akira shudders out a heavy breath against his lips, hips twitching slightly forward again against the sheets. Yuutaro's heart stutters out of time, realizing that Akira is _grinding_ against the bed because of _him_. He clears his throat weakly, trying to think of a way to ask about _touching_ him that won't make them both die of embarrassment. 

“I- if you want, you can—” he shifts his leg forward until his knee touches Akira's, surprised when they instantly spread apart so his leg slips between Akira's thighs. Akira's hips roll forward, and this time, it isn't an accidental brush but a very intentional _drag_ of Akira's dick against his thigh, followed by a stuttered little groan as Akira ducks his head to hide his face.

Even if Yuutaro figures he'd want to do the same thing, he wants to _see_ how good Akira feels, and he nudges against his back gently, swallowing so hard there's no way it's not completely obvious. Akira makes another little noise, frustration edging between his teeth, and he reaches a hand back and pulls Yuutaro's hand from the back of his shoulders to the dip in his spine where his shirt has started to ride up, laying the tips of his fingers against bare skin.

It would be a hard signal to misinterpret, and he slides his hand up Akira's back, feeling the knobs of his spine, the delicate shift of his muscles as his hips hitch forward again. And this is so, so much better than any amount of fantasizing about his best friend has ever been. He strokes Akira's back, wondering if he should be saying something, partially hoping that Akira doesn't notice how hopelessly turned on he is just from this.

“L- lay on your back,” Akira's voice is far more composed than anyone's should be in a moment like this, and Yuutaro blinks at him for a moment before registering the direction, sliding his leg back and suppressing a shiver at the little hiss from Akira. He rolls from his side to his back and is surprised when he ends up with Akira straddling his thigh, pulling his shirt over his stomach, up and off his shoulders.

There's a scar on his stomach, the spot where he got stabbed after picking a fight over Yuutaro's stolen suitcase, and he reaches a hand forward to touch it gently. Akira looks startled, and Yuutaro supposes it is a strange thing to focus on in the moment, but he drags his thumb over the shape of it, the rest of his hand splayed toward Akira's hip. 

Akira snorts, just a little, leaning forward so his hands are on either side of Yuutaro's head, lips parting slightly as he rolls his hips forward again. He sucks a sharp gasp through his teeth before repeating the motion, fingers flexing into the sheets.

Yuutaro uses his other hand to tuck hair behind Akira's ear, revealing his face, the splay of his lashes against his cheeks, the way his throat shifts to hold back another sound. He's pretty. Is Yuutaro supposed to tell him that, or would that be a strange thing to say?

“Y- you look really,” his voice shakes, and Akira's eyes blink back open, heavy-lidded and watching him. “G- good.” He finishes lamely, face burning when Akira's lips curve up into a smirk.

“You're bad at talking dirty,” he snickers, and Yuutaro frowns up at him, sliding a hand up the back of Akira's thigh slowly. Rather than try again he leans on one of his elbows to kiss him, nipping the edge of his lower lip until Akira whines softly again and his mouth opens. Yuutaro stops moving his hand before he would reach Akira's ass, still not certain of what he's permitted to touch. 

One of Akira's hands lifts from next to his head and strokes the strip of exposed skin next to his hip instead, nudging his own thigh slightly forward until he feels where Yuutaro his hard as well, startling him into bucking upwards. Something like a sob catches in the back of his throat, realizing just how neglected his body feels. Akira rubs his leg there with a shivery noise from the back of his throat and the friction makes it obvious how the tip is slick and sticking to the inside of his boxers.

Akira sits awkwardly against his thigh for a moment, brow furrowing as his other hand strokes through the hair at the back of Yuutaro's head, thumb rubbing where it's shaved down at the nape of his neck. “Are you okay?”

Yuutaro blinks then grins as he nods his head, leaning forward to lay his cheek against Akira's shoulder with a little huff of laughter. “It feels good.”

It makes his face burn like he's admitting something, but Akira's smirk returns a little, apparently smug about it. He shifts forward again, shuffling so his knees are on either side of Yuutaro's hips and tugging gently at the hem of his flannel pajama pants, brow still creased. He grins just a little wider, the nervous flutter in his stomach burning quickly into excitement as he slides them down, glad for the heater preventing the room from being too cold against his skin. He smooths both hands up Akira's back, holding him steady while he shuffles his off as well, trying not to focus too hard on the fact that they're both naked.

There's a slight flush of pink working its way up Akira's chest and Yuutaro leans forward, tracing over it curiously with his lips. Akira, despite his cool personality, is so easy to embarrass and Yuutaro wonders if he's like this whenever he's blushing. There're other scars on his arms from fights he's been in, and Yuutaro traces over those too, trying not to think too hard about Akira's hands drifting curiously, slowly down his chest.

He's pretty sure he'll explode if he does. His skin feels blazing wherever it's touched, and Akira's fingers against his thighs make him gasp in a sharp breath, anticipation stoking a fire in his stomach. Akira has more muscle than he does though Yuutaro knew that already, but he's still lean. Kind of like an alley cat. It's an apt description for Akira, always stealing scraps and getting into fights. He stifles a grin in the side of Akira's neck, arching his hips up into the first touch of his fingers, pressing a sound there as well.

Akira thumbs over the slit of his cock, making a sound in response when Yuutaro's hand tightens around his hip, tugging slightly so he's sitting in his lap rather than hovering awkwardly above it. He nibbles gently on the side of Akira's neck before sliding the hand from his hip to circle around his cock in return, grinning at the little gasp he pulls out in return.

He pumps his hand loosely several times, not tightening enough to give the friction he's sure Akira wants, teasing. Akira's other hand digs into his hair again, tugging with a soft growl in his voice, his hips rolling desperately forward. “Touch me.”

“O- okay,” he stutters out, surprised by the crest of heat in his stomach at the order, tightening his fingers and pumping his hand slowly. Akira's arm mirrors his, and his back arches with a groan falling out of his mouth before Akira leans forward and kisses him, licking into his mouth confidently, without faltering in his rhythm.

Yuutaro tries to keep up, tries to keep his head straight through the assault of sensations but he can't. They end up somewhere between kissing and simply exchanging air through open mouths. Akira's hips stutter forward at a small twist of Yuutaro's wrist, and his voice comes out higher and breathier than usual. “Y- Yuu.”

He keeps rolling his hips forward as he comes, a breathy sigh of relief falling out against Yuutaro's mouth, shivers rolling down his spine like he might be freezing. He's so fascinated watching that Yuutaro almost doesn't notice how close he is himself, the ball of pleasure in his stomach unraveling all at once with sharp, sticky threads pulling the orgasm straight out of him. He leans his head back, jaw clenching tight with the instinct to stay quiet, nails scrabbling gently against Akira's back.

Akira leans forward against him, warm and heavy, and Yuutaro laughs, planting his clean hand on the sheets to keep from toppling over, leaning his cheek against Akira's and grinning. “Y- you're cute like, um that.”

Akira huffs a sound that could be a laugh, rolling to the side and digging until he finds his discarded shirt, cleaning his hand off and passing it over for Yuutaro to do the same, pulling his pants back on with a tiny smile, grabbing at Yuutaro's arm until it wraps around him again. “Go to sleep, Yuu.”

“Good night, Aki-chan.”

It's worth the kick to his shin. Yuutaro laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> Sy: I know you're doing drabbles today but I wanna come home and have more Kindaichi  
> Me: FINE. But it might not be the one you want >:(  
> (It is. I'm whipped.)


End file.
